Memories of Yesterday, Dreams of Tomorrow
by Hannah the Scribe
Summary: (Before the Music Dies Legacy) Before they were tributes, they were children with hopes and dreams just like any other. Glimpses into the lives of the tributes in the four-hundred fifth Hunger Games, before they met their fate.
1. An Unlikely Friend

It was a day so gloomy that only the insane would go out in to it. Which, in District Nine, was a rather small population. But still, a small girl walked forwards, on to her front yard, ignoring the raindrops pouring down around her. She had always had problems, and her parents were trying to be supportive... even though they wouldn't admit what happened to their family just a few days earlier-they only said that she had never had a brother. And already, her memories were starting to fade.

_Hello, Cala, _said a voice in her head.

The girl, Cala, jumped backwards, back towards the house, though there was no one there in front of her. "Wh-who are you?" she asked aloud.

_You really don't remember me?_

"Should I?"

_I am an old friend of yours, Cala Velius._

"A... a friend?"

_Yes. A very good friend indeed._

"But what's your name?"

_You may call me Kane._

And so the crazy friendship began.


	2. Hero in Practice

The boy was running about the community home room, slashing his sword at invisible enemies. _They're approaching from both sides, _he thought, _right, left, right, left. _His sword, the only thing he had left from his family, cut through the air like the sleek, silver weapon that it was.

He heard footsteps approaching, and the enemies disappeared, replaced by the pounding of footsteps from outside the nearly empty room. The boy returned the weapon to it's sheath just as the one of the orphanage directors peeked in to the room.

"Kyler, stop fighting imaginary monsters-it's time for dinner."


	3. Learning to Ride

"Namitha, slow down! You're going to get yourself killed!"

"No I'm not!" Already several yards in front of the rest of her family, the little girl barely has a grip on the reins. But she doesn't seem to care. The pony moves at her slightest command, so well trained already.

It would be the beginning of a long history of horseback riding for her. Her younger sister is scarcely two years old now, though she'll soon learn to follow in her sister's footsteps. Even if she never quite masters Namitha's art of riding a horse while wearing a dress in cowboy boots.

Maybe it would come in handy later.


	4. Becoming Silent

Author's Note: This chapter was written and submitted by Amata (Amata le Fay).

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><p>She's walking home from school one day, just a small wisp of a girl, as happy as anyone can be in Panem. Not <em>headstrong<em>, exactly, never headstrong, but determined, in her own quiet way.

Quiet. She'd always been quiet, up until now. Soon, she would be silent.

She's a smart girl, and she should have known better than to walk through the forests that they were cutting down. But these were her forests, and these were her favorite trees.

Quiet and dazed. She's often off in her own dreamland, thinking to herself. She is the only company that she needs.

So she doesn't notice until the shadow is hanging over her, the shadow of a great large oak tree right in her path.

She screams, but no one hears her.

Luckily, her upper body twists out of harm's way, but she's still screaming. It's a quiet sort of scream, though, a resigned sort of scream. She knows that those who cut down the tree will find her, soon enough, trapped there.

They take no time in getting there, getting her out. And she thinks she's fine, perfectly untouched by the incident, until they ask her to speak.

Her throat dries up and she knows she _can't_ talk, she _can't_. She doesn't know why, but every time she opens her mouth she sees the looming shadow and feels the thud on the ground and hears her five-year-old self screaming and screaming over and over again, with no one coming to help her. She doesn't know why it's so traumatic, but she decides that it's not important and that she'll recover, in good time.

And then they abandon her. That's the last straw. They can't even bother themselves to wait for her to grow back together.

And that's when she knows that she'll never talk again.


	5. Death and Destruction

Author's Note: This chapter was written and submitted by Amata (Amata le Fay).

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><p>The boy stands over the grave, staring at it silently. He bites his lip, trying desperately to stand strong; ultimately this fails and he sinks to his knees.<p>

_ So many people, _he thinks. _Too many people gone. Pox epidemics, violent explosions, work accidents, public execution, brutal murder, the Hunger Games. And so much more._

Tod had never been an optimistic boy, nor a friendly one. But never had he felt this... angry. You would expect to feel _sad_ at a funeral, but Tod Barringer was _angry_. His mother had died. His friends had died. Who was next? His dad? Nellie? Lucy?

_ Fact: Eventually, every single human dies._

The boy stands, a new sort of determination in his eyes. He isn't going to sit back and let the others cover his eyes, just because he's young.

_ Fact: This will never change. It is a fact._

He looks around wildly, seeing that everyone else has already left, and then smiles at the grave stone. He was angry and happy at the same time, was that even _possible? _If so, then Tod felt it at this moment. His eyes had been opened. And he was disillusioned.

_ Opinion: Everyone deserves this, and it is my job to make sure that this happens._

His left hand begins to shake, hungry for a weapon. He is angry. He is happy. He is vicious. He is merciless. He is brutal. He is dangerous. He is _deadly_.

_ "This is for you, Mama."_


	6. In the Eye of the Beholder

Author's Note: This chapter was written by Haley (OddCoupler222).

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><p>She sits in the corner of the room, surrounded by people, but trying to fade into the background. When hands come to land on her bare shoulders, she freezes, and looks up to see the face of her mother staring back down at her. And Mother is not happy. "Callia, get out there and socialize. You are the mayor's niece, and this is his party. It's making him look bad."<p>

She doesn't answer, but turns to look at all of the people again. When she feels her mother prodding her again, she says, "Mother, I don't want to stand up at all. This dress hardly covers anything. It's embarrassing."

The woman lets out a loud sigh, "For the very last time, if my daughter has the ability to wear this short of a dress – and with your legs you do – then, by god, she will wear it. Look at your sister out there – she's laughing and having a wonderful time. Why can't you be more like her?"

Callia doesn't respond, because she has learned that trying to fight with her mother on many things is useless. In her mind, she comes up with several reasons why she 'can't be more like' her sister. Sathia is never teased for being taller than all of the boys in school. Sathia liked to be outgoing and be the center of attention. Sathia… just wasn't her.

This time, when her mother pushes at her shoulders again, she stands. Yes, her dress is only mid-thigh length, and she feels the constant urge to pull it down. But at least her mother allowed her to wear her glasses rather than contacts.

As the two walk toward the refreshments, the older woman swats at her daughter's back, exasperated, as she says, "For goodness sake, stop slouching!"

_ I only do this because not only am I freakishly tall but because you made me wear high heels tonight._

"I mean, really, Callia, you wouldn't even put in the contacts I bought for you. You insisted on wearing those glasses to a ball!"

_I can't help it if I don't want to stick something in my eyeball._

"And you thought you were going to be able to wear a ponytail for some portion of today? I swear, your head is buried so far in books or plants with your father, you hardly ever think of anything important. You could be so beautiful if you would just put in a tiny bit of effort."

_ I wish you were able to see that looks aren't everything._

But the girl says none of her thoughts aloud. She's tried before and gotten nowhere. Instead, she just nods at her mother's words and hopes that, while they walk, no one takes notice of how short her dress is.


	7. Complexities of Education

Author's Note: This chapter was written by Haley (OddCoupler222).

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><p>The short, scrawny boy walks into his house. His normally combed to perfection black hair is tousled, and his lip is bleeding as tears stream down his dirt covered face. Before the front door is even shut behind him, his mother is running toward him.<p>

"Newcomb, baby, what happened to your face?" She kneels in front of him and wipes at his tears with her thumbs, simultaneously trying to get some dirt off his cheeks.

When he just sniffles in response, she clucks her tongue, stands, and takes him by the hand, leading him to the bathroom. She seats him on the toilet and wets a cloth, murmuring endearments to calm him down as she cleans his face. When he's looking spick and span, she smiles at him and says, "I'm going to get you some ice for that lip of yours honey. I'll be right back."

He nods at her, and as she leaves he thinks about how she had known this was going to happen to him. He was ten, but last week he had been moved to the twelve-year-old classes, because his teachers knew he was having too easy a time with their work. Of course, his new work was really easy, too, but he'd never say that. Not after the reaction he'd gotten from his new classmates.

They teased him for being a teacher's pet, for knowing all the answers and doing his homework, for being smart. They teased him for being who he was. And today, when he asked if maybe they wouldn't mind stopping all the teasing, the main three guys hit him in the mouth, and when he fell to the ground, they sat on his back and rubbed his face in the dirt, until he apologized, then he ran home, crying. Which they would undoubtedly make fun of him for tomorrow.

He heard his mother bustling around in the kitchen, fretting over him, and, one look at his watch, told him his father would be coming home in exactly seventeen minutes. He hoped to god his mother wouldn't mention this to him; he was already a big enough disappointment to dad as it was. His parents thought he couldn't hear them when they had late night discussions when he was in bed, but he could.

"I don't think we should stick him in the sixth grade class, Lonny. Maybe we should look into homeschooling."

"The boy is already socially awkward, Kora. Homeschooling him would be the worst possible thing."

"No, the worst possible thing is when he gets bullied at school. It already happens – do you think that it's going to stop when he's in class with the older kids? Because I don't."

"Then he'll learn to defend himself. Which won't hurt him."

But, obviously, it did. He knows dad loves him – Newcomb loves him, too – but not mom. Because there's no one he loves, no one who loves him, no one who will always be there for him, like mom.

But it's okay. One day, he'll get a great job. And his dad will be impressed, and all those kids who pushed him around will be in awe, and he won't even hold it against them. One day.


	8. Just Listen

Author's Note: This chapter was submitted by Helene (misticalcookie).

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><p>"You see that way out in the distance," a man points out into the deep blue beyond. The small girl next to him peers out, using her hand to shield her eyes from the sun. All she sees is a blue mess of the sky and a few dots of cotton candy clouds. But she nods anyway because her father expects her too. And little girls never want to disappoint their fathers, not intentionally at least.<p>

"That's where I'll be tomorrow, I'll be fishing, getting all sorts of huge creatures so you, Ianthe and your mom can eat."

The little girl makes a face, "I'm tired of fish daddy," she says. "And I don't want you to go that's so far away." She's at the age where she still can't exactly get all of her letters correctly. He smiles at her and is awed by how much she completely trusts him.

"I know Ionia, but maybe if I catch enough, then I'll have money to buy you chocolate."

Ionia smiles at this, because she loves chocolate. Especially when it's pudding. And even being from 4, it's still a rare thing for her to have.

"I guess you can go daddy," Ionia looks up at him and gives his hand a squeeze. He bends down to pick her up and she squeals as he swings her around and finally lands safely in his chest. It's a father's job to keep his children safe and he is doing a fine job of it.

"Thanks for your permission darling. Now, while I'm gone, I want you to keep your mommy and Ianthe safe. But I'll be back soon."

She nods, "I'll be here daddy."

"I know you will be," he answers.

And so in the morning, way before the sun is even up, and two little girls are still sleeping soundly in their beds, the man leaves the house and heads for the shore. He hates leaving them, but knows it's the only way to support them.

For three days, the family waits for him to come home. Ionia stands at the water line watching the distance, her eyes play tricks on her because every now and then she thinks she sees the white mast of his fishing boat.

Finally, the boat pulls in, and he's standing there, smiling at his daughter with a three day beard. And it tickles as he kisses her cheek, but she doesn't care because he's home.

And the family is back up to the perfect number of four. And for a few years, all is well.

The man and his oldest daughter walk the beach every morning. It's a tradition that Ionia has grown to count on.

One day, the father turns to the daughter and says, "see that place way out yonder?" And the girl who is still young, but now old enough to know that there is nothing out there except more water, nods.

"I'll be going there tomorrow. So I want you to take care of your mom and Ianthe while I'm away."

And so Ionia agrees, because that's what she always does when her fathers says he's leaving again. As much as she hates his departure, his arrival is always a miracle.

"You're always leaving daddy," Ionia says, by now her letters are strong and her words flow well together. No longer does she lisp and switch her S and her L.

"I know, but I want to keep it that way. Because I couldn't stand it if you were the one to leave me," he replies honestly.

The reaping, which was just last month, is still burned into her mind. "But what about the games daddy, if I'm chosen, then I must leave you."

But her father doesn't want to think about that. It's too depressing. He never wants to lose his little girl.

"You won't be chosen darling, I know you won't. And even if you are, someone will volunteer for you."

"Volunteer?" Ionia questions, because she couldn't see why anyone would actually _choose_ to go. Least of all, her.

Her father kneels down in front of her and grips her arms, not hard enough to hurt her but tight enough to make her pay attention. He knows his daughter and knows that sometimes, Ionia doesn't always pay close attention to things. But this is important. "Ionia, promise me, you will never volunteer."

The girl promises, but she is too busy looking out yonder where her father is going tomorrow, that she misses the _"never."_ And she promises that she will, and has never been the type to question her father. So she trusts him so much that she never thinks to ask why he wants her to volunteer.

The next morning she wakes to find a pair of earrings next to her. And she runs to the shore to pick out the spot where her father will be.

And just like always, she waits. Waits as a storm comes through and turns the calm water into a raging ocean with fierce waves. She waits as the sky turns gray and the rain drenches her down to her bones.

But he never returns to her. But she continues to wait.

And so when she volunteers years after his death, she thinks that she is keeping her promise. But really, she's breaking it.

And now he's waiting for her to join him.


	9. Epidemic

The whole district was caught up in the distress.

The sick were everywhere-in their houses, in the hospital... lying dead on the streets. One brave-looking girl was trying to get home. She had arrived at the school building only to find Peacekeepers waiting for her, announcing that the school was closed until further notice. So she lugged her bookbag home with her, back to her parents and twin eight-year-old sisters-all of whom were sick.

"Mom! Dad! There's no school anymore!" she called as she let herself back in through an open window. "Hello?"

She reached the living room, where everyone had been. But now there was no one there. They couldn't have gone anywhere-they could barely move when Kizzy had left for school. She had felt bad leaving them all alone, but school was how she'd gotten food, signed up for the free lunches and breakfasts that she'd often tried to bring home...

She heard a commotion outside and ran out the front door. Three Peacekeepers were there, dragging off her parents and little sisters. Or, rather, their bodies, still covered in the scars of the illness that Kizzy herself had already recovered from.

She watched them get dragged off, tears pooling in her eyes for the last time that she could remember. Kizzy knew that she would never see them again-except in her nightmares.

But her whole life was a nightmare.


End file.
